


To the Rescue

by Angelise (angelise7)



Series: The Rescue Series [2]
Category: Highlander: The Series, due South
Genre: Damn Adam Pierson!, Dewey to the rescue, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Former published zine, M/M, Ray deals with his emotions in an unhealthy manner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-12
Updated: 2015-05-12
Packaged: 2018-03-29 22:12:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3912472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelise7/pseuds/Angelise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While enjoying a quite evening supper with his Scottish lover, Detective Tom Dewey is called upon to rescue a friend. Imagine his surprise when he actually discovers who that friend is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To the Rescue

 

“Detective?”

Thomas Dewey aimed an apologetic smile at his dinner companion, pausing briefly to offer an assuring squeeze to the hand slowly slipping from his. “What’s up, Sal?”

Sal Campesi, owner of  _Jacks Only_ , an exclusive club for the gay men of Chicago, indicated with a nod of his head that he wished their conversation to be conducted in privacy. “May I speak with you for a moment?”

Tom tossed his linen napkin on the table and rose gracefully to his feet. “Will you excuse me, Duncan?” With a small smile of regret on his face, he bent down to whisper privately in his date’s ear, totally unaware of the admiring glances cast in his direction.

 Gone was the brash, patronizing detective who, along with his partner, was the butt of countless jokes at the city’s 27th precinct. In his place was a man of confidence and poise, casually dressed in Ralph Lauren charcoal gray slacks and a rich midnight blue cable-knit sweater that hugged his broad shoulders and narrow waist. His hair was swept back from his face, the unfamiliar style drawing attention to his generous smile and the glint of devilment in his chocolate-brown eyes. Those who worked with him on a daily basis at the police station would never have recognized the man tenderly running his fingers through the long strands of his companion’s hair.

“I’ll be right back. And don’t…” He playfully tapped his date’s lips. “…eat any of my praline cheesecake. Remember the last time you stole a bite of my dessert?”

“And you think the threat of a well-fucked ass is a sufficient deterrent?” One disobedient spoon rose in the air and moved quite determinedly toward his side of the table.

Tom shifted his hand to his companion’s cheek and gently pressed his thumb inside the man’s mouth, pushing it in and out in a most suggestive manner. “Maybe I should reconsider my options when it comes to punishing a certain Scotsman.”

“Maybe you should.”

Eyes the color of rich molasses turned their wicked gaze upon him, and he swallowed back the moan that rose to his lips when his thumb was suckled hungrily before being pulled deeply inside a mouth so hot it nearly threatened to burn him alive.

“Duncan MacLeod. You’ll be the death of me yet.”

“A most glorious way to go, wouldn’t you agree?”

Tom did moan when the handsome Highlander released his thumb and pressed a wet kiss to the palm of his hand. Closing his eyes, he once again thanked whatever heavenly being had had the foresight to bring Duncan into his life, even if it was a long distance affair of the heart.

“Damn you, Duncan,” he chastised his lover with a smile of intense longing.

He had recently begun to despair over his single status. Yes, there were plenty of men willing to date him and fuck him, but not one was interested in a long-term commitment; and at this point in his life, he wanted nothing more than to settle down and have the same type of loving relationship his father and mother had enjoyed for nearly fifty years. To find a man willing to take on not only him but also his current shitload of problems was, indeed, a blessing for which he would always be exceedingly grateful.

“Detective, please.”

Sal’s voice interrupted his thoughts, and he was almost tempted to tell the man to piss off. Spending time with Duncan was very precious to him, and he sure as hell didn’t want to waste one minute of the remaining few hours they had left together.

“Okay, okay.”

Containing his sigh of frustration, he bid his companion a temporary farewell and followed the tall Italian toward the door at the rear of the club. “This had better be good, Sal. Duncan’s only in town for one more night, and spending time with him is my number one priority.”

He stopped in the doorway and glanced over his shoulder, feeling the full weight of Duncan’s brooding stare. The familiar heat of arousal stirred in his groin, and it was only the desperate look in Sal’s eyes that kept him from turning on his heel and rushing back to the pouting Scot.

“Hell, Sal, for what I’m giving up, this  **better** be a matter of life or death.”

“I’m sorry if I’m ruining your evening, Detective, but I didn’t know what else to do. He’s been here for the past two days, and I’m seriously starting to worry about him. I thought maybe you, being his friend and all, could talk some sense into him and convince him to go home.” Sal opened the door and directed him down the hallway that led to the club’s private rooms.

“Friend? You must be mistaken, Sal. Considering I haven’t come out to any of my friends in this city, I doubt there’d be anyone here I know.”

As did so many other gay professionals, he closely guarded his sexuality, knowing full well it would be suicide to publicize his preferences, especially in his line of work. Gay cops did not last long on the force, and those who had the willpower to face the daily harassment heaped upon them were normally working shitty assignments. He wanted no part of that. He enjoyed being a detective and had no problem keeping his lifestyle under wraps, even from his partner of nearly three years. Several of their co-workers were known homophobes, and he certainly didn’t want to deal with the razor-sharp sarcasm these men took pleasure in dishing out to those they thought were fags and perverts. And he certainly didn’t want to place Huey in harm’s way. It was difficult enough working with men who thoroughly despised his choice of lifestyle. He would never be able to forgive himself if his sexuality became public and Huey’s career suffered because he was partnered with a known homosexual.

“Are you sure it’s someone I know?” he asked as he brushed past several men loitering near the end of the hallway. Something about the group struck him as slightly odd, and upon taking a second look, he realized all of them had dark hair and were wearing red shirts.

“One of your clients must have a thing for the color red, Sal.”

The Italian nodded. “You could say that.”

Stopping outside the door to the last room, he watched Sal fumble with his set of master keys. Before the Italian could locate the correct one, the door opened and out stepped another dark-haired stranger, similarly dressed as those waiting in the hallway. “Excuse me,” he mumbled as he staggered over the threshold and lurched against them.

Tom quickly schooled his features, not wishing to reveal how shocked he was at the stranger’s appearance. His lips were bruised and swollen, his neck covered in bites and the red Henley he wore – he could only surmise from the way the shirt was torn and barely hanging on the man’s left shoulder that the garment had been violently ripped off at some point.

He dropped his eyes to the floor in order to hide the grimace he couldn’t contain when the stranger stumbled by. The strong odor of semen clung to the man and he knew without a doubt that the man had been ‘ridden hard and put up wet’ as Duncan was fond of saying.

The thought of his companion spurred him to ask, “Wanna tell me what’s going on, Sal? I’d like to get back to Duncan as soon as possible.”

Sal held up his hand to stall any further questions. “One moment, Detective.” Turning his attention to the men in the hallway, he instructed, “Gentlemen, that’ll be all for tonight. You can go home now.”

Gradually losing patience with the club owner, he watched the remaining men slowly file out of the rear exit. “Sal, if you don’t tell me what the hell is going on, I’m gonna haul your ass in for pimping.”

The Italian ignored his bogus threat and threw open the door, revealing the naked form of a man sprawled half on and half off the king-size bed in the middle of the elegantly furnished room.

“It’s Ray, Detective. Raymond Kowalski.”

The dropping of a pin could have been heard by the two men, the silence that greeted Sal’s announcement was so complete. Stunned beyond belief, Tom stepped inside the room and shook his head. “Kowalski? Here? You’ve got to be kidding.”

The door slammed shut behind him, and he nearly jumped out of his skin, caught off guard by the noise because his brain was still trying to process the surprising news Sal had just dropped on him.

_‘Kowalski, face down and butt naked at ‘Jacks Only?’ Knock me over with a feather, why don’t’cha?’_  he thought in amazement.

“Kowalski’s gay?” he finally forced out. “You’re shittin’ me, right?”

As Sal maneuvered Ray back on the bed, Tom automatically catalogued the bruises, scratches and remains of dried semen marking the younger man’s naked flesh. Knowing full well the disgust Kowalski would feel if he ever found out a colleague had witnessed his state of indignity, he quickly canvassed the floor for the bed’s missing covers. He discovered a crumpled silk sheet stuck beneath a nearby chair and, after pulling it free, held it out to Sal.

“Cover him up, for Christ’s sake,” he instructed the club owner.

Waiting for Sal to complete his task, he thoroughly inspected the room and recognized a familiar red uniform jacket precariously thrown over the shade of a lamp that was tipped on its side and resting against the wall across from him. _What the fuck was that doing here? Don’t tell me Fraser’s hiding out in the bathroom?_

When no Mountie magically appeared, he lifted his gaze to the snoring man on the bed. “I’m still a little confused here,” he admitted. “Yeah, Kowalski and I work together and obviously…” he couldn’t help staring at the hickeys that circled both of Ray’s nipples. “…obviously, we both enjoy the company of other men. What I don’t understand is why you think he needs my help? Seems he’s been having a hell of a time without it.”

Sal took a seat on the edge of the bed and threw a worried look at the snoring detective before glancing up. “Ray’s been a regular for several years, and he’s quite popular with the other members of the club, has quite a following, if you get my drift. He stops by, maybe, once a month, and as you saw, his  **fans** all share one specific feature… dark hair.”

“Now, you gotta believe me when I say this visit’s been the worst yet. Normally, it takes only a few hours, and one or two men to help him work through his problems, but not this time.” Sal ran a hand through his thinning gray hair. “He’s been holed up in this room the entire weekend, and don’t even ask me how many men he’s had in here.”

“The worst yet?”

Still feeling extremely uncomfortable with the situation Sal had forced him into, he warily moved closer to the bed and tugged on the cream-colored sheet that had been thrown over Ray, wishing nothing more than to cover the man’s bare chest.

“Kowalski’s a  **regular** ? Can’t believe I haven’t bumped into him before now.”

Gnawing nervously on his bottom lip, he contemplated the man he thought he knew as well as everyone else at the precinct. It wasn’t so much discovering Ray shared the same tastes as he did – hell, if he was truthful about the whole thing, finding out Ray played on the same team as he did was actually a blessing in disguise. Maybe they could get together, share an occasional beer while commiserating about the lifestyle they both kept secret from their friends and co-workers.

No, the problem he was having trouble dealing with was the present state Ray was in. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had been going on in this room, and from the number of discarded condoms littering the worn carpet, Ray had apparently been going at it long and hard. Forty-eight hours, from what Sal had said.

“Holy shit,” he whispered under his breath as he tallied up the number of condoms. Thirteen and that was only what he could see on  **this** side of the bed.

Shifting his gaze to Ray’s leaner than usual face, he noted the dark circles under his eyes, the drawn features even in sleep, the stubble-covered cheeks and chin that obviously hadn’t seen a razor in several days. Something seriously wrong was going on with the man – that much was evident – but he had no clue whatsoever to the reason that would drive Ray to act in such a manner.

He reached out and touched the crooked toes that had slipped from beneath the sheet. He admitted that, yes, sometimes, the slightly eccentric detective was a royal pain in the ass, especially when he went out of his way to make fun of him and his partner, Huey. And normally, he ignored the insults thrown at him, letting them roll off his shoulders just like water rolled off a duck’s back. But every now and then, when his patience grew thin and his temper was working on a short fuse, he seriously wished he could belt Ray in the mouth and would have done so on many an occasion if it hadn’t been for that damn stick-up-the-ass Canadian Mountie guarding his back.

 He snapped his head up and stared hard at Ray’s face.

_Fraser_ .

_Mountie_ .

_Ray fucking dark-haired men wearing red shirts._

_Shit_ !

He pulled on the neckline of his sweater as he joined Sal on the edge of the bed. “This has something to do with Ray’s partner, right?”

“Now  **that** I’m not sure of. Your friend doesn’t confide in me, and when he visits my establishment, he always comes alone and leaves alone.  **But** ,” Sal aimed a small, tight smile at him, “having seen this Fraser during an unfortunate visit to your precinct; and considering the men Ray shares his time with when he’s at my club, then yes, I believe it’s safe to say this…” The Italian waved his hand at the shadow-filled room. “… definitely has something to do with his partner.”

Tapping one foot impatiently, Sal glanced down at his watch and let out a frustrated sigh. “I take it this Fraser is straight?”

Tom nodded. “As far as I know he is, but then, hell, I thought Kowalski here was straight.”

Mirroring Sal’s earlier action, he checked the time on his watch. “Shit! Duncan’s gonna be wondering where in the hell I am.” Jumping to his feet, he quickly moved toward the door, only to be stopped by Sal who had followed in his footsteps.

“Wait! What about…?” Grabbing his arm, the club owner hitched a thumb over his shoulder and indicated the sleeping man moving restlessly on the bed behind them. “Detective!”

“What?”

“What about Ray?”

“Put him in a cab and send him home.” He shook off the Italian’s hand and opened the door. “Better yet, call his partner. Maybe Fraser’ll get a clue once he gets an eyeful of that.”

“Detective, please.”

He stopped just outside the door and made the unforgivable mistake of glancing back at Ray, who was, at that moment, awake and puking his guts out all over the floor. Hanging his head in defeat, he cursed under his breath. He absolutely did  **not** want to get involved in his co-worker’s problems, simply because he did not wish to come between Ray and Fraser. Maybe with the right incentive, the type that was crisp and green, Sal could be persuaded to …

A sound of pure misery reached his ears and he caved.

_‘Damn you, Mom, for teaching me to be a good Samaritan_ ,’ he thought as he re-entered the room.

“You owe me, Sal. In fact…”

He gathered up Ray’s clothes before turning to the Italian hovering at the door. “In appreciation of what I’m about to do, you’re gonna go back into the restaurant and present Duncan with a bottle of your very best champagne, and I mean  _very_ best, Sal. None of that cheap shit you pawn off on the majority of your clientele. A bottle of champagne and whatever decadent dessert he would like to take back to the hotel.”

Yanking free the nearest pillowcase and gently wiping clean Ray’s face, he continued in his instructions. “You will then,” he threw the pillowcase on the floor to cover the vomit soaking into the carpet, “explain to my very obsessive lover why our last evening together has been cut short.”

He slapped away the hands protesting his assistance and guided Ray to a sitting position on the side of the bed, slipping on the man’s shirt with some difficulty. “Once you’ve offered Duncan your most profuse apologies, you will then instruct him to bring the Thunderbird around to the back where I will meet him with my new-found friend.”

“Dew… Dewey?”

Ray’s head lolled back and forth before finally hitting him square in the chest. “Yes, Ray, it’s me, Dewey.” He searched the room for his co-worker’s missing underwear but found none in sight. “Guess you’ll have to go commando for the ride home, Bucko.”

Unable to hold Ray upright and pull on his jeans at the same time, he looked to Sal for help and found the Italian had already left the room. “Better you than me apologizing to Duncan,” he said with a chuckle.

His Highland lover was a sight to behold when his wrath was stirred, and Tom had wisely learned to keep his mouth shut and lay low when Duncan was in a snit. And, more than likely, in a bit of a snit his sword-toting lover would be once he discovered his carefully laid plans for their last night together were about to be cancelled.

“May the angels protect you, my friend.”

Smiling at the thought of Sal prostrating himself before Duncan, he allowed his nearly unconscious colleague to fall back on the bed. “Sal’s not the only one who will owe me big time. You, too, Kowalski. Even more so than Sal.”

He hissed aloud when he caught sight of the numerous bruises and scrapes that marked the pale skin surrounding Ray’s groin and thighs. “Please tell me you were the one riding and not the one ridden.” Fearing the worst, he eased Ray over on his stomach and breathed a sigh of relief when, after gently parting his buttcheeks, discovered the man’s ass was untouched.

Turning Ray once more on his back and forcing the jeans over his slender hips, he squatted beside the bed and listened to him mumble in his sleep for a few seconds. Being a witness to the daily horrors inflicted upon the innocent, he was simply amazed that Ray had not been raped and left for dead.

“You’re one lucky son of a bitch, Kowalski,” he reasoned as he rose to his feet and gently brushed his fingers through Ray’s sweat-matted hair. “Damn lucky.”

With his gaze focused on Ray’s haggard features, he spent a moment wondering what possibly could have driven him to act in such a manner. Casual sex with strangers definitely wasn’t the answer, no matter what the problem was. And Ray was such a damn hypochondriac, it simply did not make sense for him to run the risk of contracting a sexually transmitted disease just so he could deal with whatever the hell it was bothering him.

“Your guardian angel is sure putting in some major overtime.”

After collecting Ray’s socks and boots, he hoisted his still-mumbling colleague over his shoulder and made his way toward the door.

“But then again, I guess it’s true what they say.” He verified the hallway was clear of prying eyes before stepping out of the room and walking toward the exit door that led to the parking lot at the rear of the club.

“God does, indeed, protect fools.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Tom, why is there someone camping outside your friend’s door?”

Tightening his hold on the man who was, once again, slung over his shoulder, Tom ceased his search of Ray’s pockets to look at the empty bedroll and duffle bag lying on the floor. “Who knows? This is Chicago. Maybe it’s a homeless person seeking shelter from the rain outside? Maybe some wife locked her husband out because he’s been beating her? Who knows? This isn’t exactly the best neighborhood to live in.”

He let out a quiet shout of victory when he located the keys to Ray’s apartment. “We’ll check on whoever it is once we get Romeo here settled.”

His lover pushed the door open and followed him inside, making sure Ray’s head did not hit the wall when they both accidentally stumbled over a pair of hiking boots blocking the threshold. “Do you need me to help you put him to bed?” Duncan asked as he placed the uniform jacket he was carrying on the nearest chair,

“Nah,” Tom called back as he made his way toward what he hoped was the bedroom. “I’ve got it under control, Handsome.” A few minutes later, after having done his best to make his nearly unconscious colleague as comfortable as possible, he quietly closed the door to Ray’s bedroom and returned to the living room.

Taking a moment to appreciate the sight of his attractive lover, he watched Duncan walk through the eclectically decorated living room. A smile appeared when he noticed his lover’s curiosity had been snagged by a mat with dance steps outlined on it. The grin grew wider when the Highlander demonstrated his innate grace and followed the diagram that was designated as foxtrot.

“Don’t tell me I’ve been fucking Fred Astaire all this time.”

He stepped into the room and leered suggestively at his lover.

Chuckling, Duncan offered him a deep bow before glancing up with a suggestive leer curling his own full lips. “I believe Fred Astaire preferred blonds, and I’m  **not** talking about Ginger Rogers.” The Scot nodded in the direction of the hallway. “How is your friend?”

“Dead to the world. Can’t you hear him snoring?”

He took out his handkerchief and wiped his hands clean. Ray badly needed a shower, but his goodness only went so far. Besides, it wasn’t like the man was about to entertain any visitors. Let him stink for a while. Maybe it would serve to remind him how stupidly he had acted over the past two days. “Damn idiot,” he muttered under his breath.

“Love’ll do that to you.” Duncan lifted a small turtle off the pillow beside him and placed it on the floor, a smile gracing his handsome features before pulling him into a tender embrace. Pressing a kiss to his forehead, he asked, “Wanna tell me what’s going on? What’s  **really** going on?”

He rested his head on the shoulder next to him and took a moment to enjoy being held by the longhaired Scot. God, he was definitely going to miss this particular pleasure when Duncan returned to Seacouver, but then, whose fault was that? Certainly not his lover’s.

Refusing to think along those lines, he turned his attention back to the matter at hand and answered Duncan’s questions. “Ray’s a colleague of mine; and up until tonight, I would have bet my entire investment portfolio on the fact that he was one hundred percent straight.”

A gentle hand worked its way beneath his sweater, and he sighed contentedly when it began to rub up and down his back. “Guess I was wrong.”

“He smells like he’s been fucking for days on end.” Duncan pulled him closer and nuzzled the spot behind his ear.

“Actually, it’s only been two days.”

“Only?”

Something bumped against his foot and upon looking down, he discovered the turtle Duncan had removed earlier from the couch was trying to climb over his shoe. He gently nudged the small reptile to the side. “From what I’m told, Ray goes on a fucking spree every now and then, and I don’t doubt it has something to do with Fraser.”

“And this Fraser would be?” Duncan gathered up his hand and intertwined their fingers.

“Ray’s partner. Well, that’s not exactly right. Fraser’s assigned to the Canadian Consulate, and he and Ray work together on certain cases.”

He would never admit it, but he was just a tad bit jealous of Ray and Fraser’s partnership. Despite their obvious differences, the two men worked extremely well together, a fact that was verified by the number of cases they solved. Unfortunately for him and Huey, their colleagues’ exceptional accomplishments did not go unnoticed by their superior, Lieutenant Welsh, and were constantly held up as the standard for all other teams.

“They do good work,” he grudgingly admitted to Duncan.

“So I’m assuming the reason Ray goes on these fucking sprees is because Fraser’s not into men? Or to be more specific, not into him?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

He pulled the tie from Duncan’s long hair and shoved it in his pocket, his hand rushing back to play with the sleek soft strands that tumbled around the Scot’s broad shoulders. Playing with the Highlander’s hair ranked number three on his list of favorite things to do, preceded only by fucking Duncan and kissing Duncan – those were  **really** the best; and if it hadn’t been for Ray, he would have been indulging in all three at this very moment.

Inhaling the herbal fragrance clinging to his lover’s hair, he asked, “Are you sure you don’t mind staying here for little while? I know it’s our last night together and that you bought those tickets…”

He sat straight up and slapped his forehead. “Shit! I forgot all about the opera. Maybe if you leave now, you can still catch the last act or so. I’d go with you, but I’d feel like an insensitive jackass if something should happen to….”

A toe-curling kiss put a halt to his words, and he willingly surrendered to the mouth and tongue that were searching for the tonsils he no longer had. Callused fingers traced along his ribs, making him wish he could rip his sweater off so that he could provide Duncan with more territory to explore.

“Thomas…”

“Duncan…”

The unmistakable sound of a body hitting the floor jerked the two of them apart, and he was quick to offer his frustrated lover a kiss of apology before rising from the couch and heading in the direction of Ray’s bedroom. “Hold that thought. I’ll be right back.”

Cursing under his breath and heaping several unfavorable names upon the man who had just interrupted what could have been a sweet moment with Duncan, he found Ray lying flat on his back, his lower legs tangled in sheets. He shook his head in surprise when he noticed the man had somehow finagled his way out of the t-shirt and underwear he had dressed him in earlier.

“Do you have something against wearing clothes?” he asked, moving further into the room.

“Raw. I… I sleep in the raw.” Ray struggled helplessly against the sheets imprisoning his legs. “Fuck, I gotta pee.”

Ripping the sheet away, Tom quickly assisted Ray to his feet and pointed him toward the door. They had managed to take only a couple of steps before the younger man’s legs gave out, and he expertly caught him in his arms, half carrying, half dragging him the rest of the way to the bathroom. He averted his gaze while Ray emptied his bladder, and then pinched closed his nose when the unmistakable stench that followed informed him that Ray was also emptying his stomach... again.

“Been sucking down too much spunk lately?” His sarcasm was belied by the gentle way in which he wiped away the spit dribbling down Ray’s chin.

“What the fuck… are you… are you doing here?” Ray gasped out in between dry heaving into the toilet.

Good question, he thought as he helped Ray to stand. Wrinkling his nose, he was about to suggest his colleague consider taking the bath or shower he so obviously needed when Duncan pushed the door open slightly.

“Need any help in there?”

“Yeah. Think you could help me sponge him off? I seriously doubt he’s steady enough to stand in the shower, and I’m not exactly enthusiastic about getting my new sweater wet.”

He and Duncan each grabbed a washcloth from the pile sitting on the back of the toilet and got busy wiping Ray down, sharing conspiratorial grins when their crabby companion slandered both their mothers.

“Fucking bastards! This is…  **SHIT** ! That’s friggin’ cold. Ever heard of hot water?”

Tom looked over at his lover and saw that Duncan’s grin disappeared as quickly as his did when Ray stumbled to his feet, and they saw the full extent of the bruises marring his upper and mid-torso. Without saying a word, he held onto the wobbling man while Duncan swiftly dried him.

“Thanks, babe. I’ve got it from here.” He slung an arm around Ray’s waist and carefully walked him out of the bathroom after sharing an affectionate smile with his understanding lover. “Start warming those lips up. I’ll join you in just a sec.”

“Who’s that?” Ray mumbled when they reached the bedroom, and he fell back exhaustedly on his bed.

“A friend.”

He checked to see if Duncan was standing in the doorway. The last thing he wanted to do was explain to Ray his relationship with the Scot. Some things were best kept private, especially from those who sometimes went out of their way to make fun of him.

Ray covered his face with a pillow and groaned. “A friend?” Lowering the pillow, he glared at him. “When did  **you** start having friends?”

Tom clenched his hands at his side and struggled valiantly to keep from adding to Ray’s pain. It was a losing battle once he got a good look at the sneer on Ray’s face. “At least  **I’ve** got someone who loves me, and don’t have to go searching for it in the arms of men who don’t give a damn who rides their ass.”

It was hard for him to tell who was more shocked by his outburst, himself or Ray, who had dropped his pillow on the floor in response and was now staring open-mouthed at him.

“You… you….”

He shoved his hands in his pockets and dropped his embarrassed gaze to the floor. “Oh hell!” He knew his comment was low and dirty, but damn it, Ray’s sarcasm had hurt and he had responded instinctively. “I’m sorry, Ray. That was uncalled for.”

“You were there? You… you saw what I was….” Ray grabbed his remaining pillow and jammed it over his face. “Someone kill me now. Please.”

Feeling like a complete jerk, Tom sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled the pillow away from Ray’s face. “Sal saw me in the restaurant and thought I could lend you a helping hand.”

He nearly fell off the bed when he caught sight of the horrified look on Ray’s face. “No, no! I didn’t mean that. Jesus Christ, Ray! What kind of person do you think I am?” A shudder coursed through his body, and he fought back the nausea that rose in his throat. He couldn’t believe Ray would, even for one second, think that he would, that he could – ‘ _Not going there in a million years, Bucko.’_

An awkward silence fell between the two of them, and he was debating whether he should leave or stay when Ray finally spoke.

“You were at Sal’s?”

Ray glanced at the partially open door. “With him?” Not waiting for an answer, he groaned softly and began rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. “Gawd, I feel like shit.”

“You look like it, too,” Tome agreed bravely, chuckling when his exhausted colleague slung the pillow at him.

“Who the hell made you a fashion expert?” Ray growled before turning on his stomach. His new position provided a clear view of the scratches on his back.

“You might want to put something on those.” Tom lightly touched Ray’s back and felt the nausea rumble once more in his stomach. Yes, he also enjoyed rough sex, loved it when Duncan took him down and fucked him through the floor but this – he traced one particularly wicked-looking scratch – this went way beyond that. “A couple of ‘em are beginning to look inflamed,” he added.

Ray, who had thrown his arms above his head, glanced over his shoulder at him, his blue eyes pleading. “You’re not gonna… I mean, you’ll keep this…” Heaving a weary sigh, Ray sat up abruptly. “You’re not gonna tell Fraser about this, are ya?”

“Tell him what?” he asked as he bent down to gather up the tossed pillows. He returned them to Ray, who immediately placed them behind his back.

Leaning against the headboard, Ray fixed him with a look that could have been called intimidating if it wasn’t for the slight tinge of fear present in the gaze. “You won’t, will you, Tom?”

Amazed that Ray had called him by his first name, he nodded his compliance. He had worked with the Mountie long enough to realize Fraser would in no way understand Ray’s recent activities. The man was so straight-laced and disgustingly proper, he would more than likely arrest Ray for indecent behavior. “What you do off the job,” he said, “is your own business, but if you need someone to talk to…”

“Shit, are you crazy? It’s bad enough you saw me at Sal’s, Dewey. Now you want me to bare my soul to ya?” Ray avoided looking at him. Instead, he focused his gaze on the sheet wrapped around his waist and picked at a frayed spot he had discovered. “I sure as hell don’t need any  _Dear Abby_ .”

Ray’s shitty attitude finally broke the last straw.

“You ungrateful bastard. That’s the last time I help your sorry ass.”

Angry not only at Ray but also at himself for wasting what was to have been his last night with Duncan, he jumped to his feet and headed toward the door, refusing to heed the pathetic sob he heard Ray make.

_‘You try to be nice, lend a helping hand, offer a sympathetic ear and what does it get you? Absolutely---’_

“He’s hurting, Thomas.”

So caught up in his angry mental tirade, Tom ran smack into his lover, who had apparently been listening at the door. “Duncan!” Familiar strong hands gripped his upper arms and prevented him from stumbling backwards. “What were you…?”

“He’s hurting, Tom. Listen.”

Duncan slid an arm around his waist, turning him so that he faced the open bedroom door. Both of them could easily hear the choked sobs Ray was trying to muffle.

“And just what do you want me to do about it?” he asked harshly, pulling away from Duncan and walking toward the living room. He knew exactly what he’d like to do, and it had  **nothing** at all to do with extending a sympathetic ear. His plan of action would be more like extending a hard left jab, followed by a swift kick to the ass.

“Maybe he needs a little more encouragement before he’ll talk.” Duncan followed him, slipping arms around his waist again and tenderly nuzzling the area behind his left ear. “Does Ray have a friend or sibling he could talk to?”

“Not that I know of. It’s pretty much just him and Fraser.” Still not ready to let go of his anger, he tilted his head to the side and gave the Scot more skin to taste. “Ray seems to be pretty much a loner. I’ve never seen him with anyone but that damn Mountie.”

“All the more reason for  **you** to go back in there. You, of all people, understand the demons he has to deal with on a daily basis; and from the little you’ve told me, the kid evidently needs all the support he can get.” Duncan nipped his earlobe. “I tell you what. You go see if you can get Ray to talk, and I’ll call the airlines and see about delaying my flight home until tomorrow evening. How’s that?”

Tom knew deep down in his heart that Duncan’s request was reasonable, but playing psychologist and listening to Ray’s sob story was not the way he wanted to spend the rest of the night. There was a perfectly sinful bed waiting for him and his lover at the hotel Duncan was staying at, and  **that’s** where he wanted to be, preferably naked and having his ass rimmed to the max.

Unfortunately, his guilty conscious overrode his libido, and with a groan of pure frustration, he crushed his mouth to Duncan’s for one last kiss before turning away and stomping back into the bedroom. “I’m gonna kill Sal. Boil him in hot oil or better yet, cover him in honey and bury him in a nest of fire ants.”

Tucking his thoughts of vengeance away for the time being, he observed Ray for a couple of minutes before touching him on his shoulder. “Ray,” he whispered softly. Startled, the younger man snapped his head up, and he could plainly see the tears clinging to Ray’s eyelashes.

“What are you still doin’ here?” Ray asked grumpily. “Thought you left.” He scrubbed his hands over his face to remove the evidence of his momentary weakness.

“Well… I didn’t.”

He reached for the straight-back chair that sat next to the bed. Pulling it closer, he tossed aside the messy bundle of clothes covering its seat and sat down, taking another moment to silently observe the man hiding his face behind clenched fists. This was not going to be easy, simply because he had no idea what to say to Ray. Talking wasn’t a strong point of his, and he normally left that task, especially in his job, to his very loquacious partner. He was more the strong silent type, being more comfortable with listening than with flapping his gums.

“I heard you crying and…” He immediately changed directions when Ray dropped his hands and aimed a lethal glare at him. “I know what you said earlier, ‘bout not wanting to bare your soul to me, and I was fully prepared to leave; but after thinking on it, I changed my mind. Thought you might reconsider and talk to someone who actually  **knows** the score.”

When Ray seemed to be ignoring his second offer of help, he threw a ‘what do I do now’ look at the man who had appeared in the doorway, but before Duncan could make a suggestion, Ray surprised both of them by answering softly.

“He’s leaving. Going back home. Going back home for good.”

Tom didn’t have to be told of whom Ray was referring to, and with the utterance of those three simple statements, he now fully understood why the man was so miserable. If Ray cared for Fraser as much as he did for Duncan, it went without saying that he must have felt his whole world was crumbling to pieces when told the man he loved was returning to Canada.

Scooting his chair closer, he asked, “What do you mean Fraser’s leaving? I thought he still had another year or so to go on his assignment with the Consulate?”

“Seems his new boss has finally decided he no longer needs Fraser guarding the front door. He handed him his walking papers this past Friday.”

Tom caught Ray staring in the direction of his open clothes closet; and upon following his gaze, found that Ray had thumbtacked a newspaper photo of himself and Fraser to the back of the door. Further examination of the closet’s contents revealed a recognizable pair of boots amongst Ray’s collection of sneakers and shoes. The detective in him was chomping at the bit to discover why Ray had Fraser’s boots in his possession, and it was with great difficulty that he controlled his curiosity and turned his mind back to the discussion at hand.

“Isn’t there something Fraser can do to remain here?”

Ray tore his gaze away from the photo and looked straight at him. “Fraser  **wants** to go back. He’s homesick.”

Tom nearly reached his hand out to Ray in sympathy. This was the crux of the whole problem. Fraser wanted to return home; and from the agony evident on Ray’s face, the Mountie had not even considered how much Ray would be affected by his departure.

“Go with him.”

Duncan’s voice floated in the air above them, catching both him and Ray by surprise. Turning slightly in his chair, he found his lover now standing behind him. He lightly touched the hand that had come to rest on his shoulder as he introduced the two men to each other.

“Duncan, this is Ray Kowalski. Ray, Duncan MacLeod, a good friend of mine.”

Ray barely acknowledged Duncan with a nod of his head, returning his attention instead to the frayed spot on the sheet.

“Go home with him,” Duncan repeated his suggestion to Ray.

He unconsciously gripped Duncan’s hand and pulled it down to his chest, holding it against his heart. The move did not go unnoticed by Ray. He watched them closely from beneath his lashes, and Tom could easily see the shadow of longing in the man’s eyes.

“Duncan’s got a good idea. Go back to Canada with Fraser.”

“Fraser hasn’t asked, and I’m not going where I’m not wanted,” Ray said with an annoyed sigh before closing his eyes and wearily leaning his head against the wall behind him.”

“Would you go? If he asked, I mean?” Duncan inquired.

“In a heartbeat. Fraser’s everything to me.”

Ray snapped open his eyes and fixed Duncan with a look that communicated more than his words did. Upon seeing it, Tom actually began to feel even sorrier for Ray, for the loss he would have to endure once Fraser was gone from his life.

“Detective Kowalski, is your partner aware of your feelings for him? Does he know you wish to be at his side when he returns home?”

Leave it to Duncan to ask the one burning question that had been plaguing him since the conversation had begun. Did Fraser have any idea that Ray was in love with him?

He reflected on what he knew of the two men. Yes, they had had various relationships with women – all of which, according to department gossip – had ended in failure. And lately, it seemed that every time he walked into the bullpen, Ray and Fraser were joined at the hip – where one went, the other was sure to follow. Hell, there were days when he couldn’t help but wonder if the two of them shared the same urinal when they went to the bathroom. They were just that close.

In fact, the more he thought on it –  **really** thought on it – the more he realized that Ray and Fraser were so much more than just partners. There was a dynamic there that went way beyond a simple work relationship. Ray’s heart had clearly recognized the truth and made a connection that had, over time, evolved into love. Had Fraser’s heart made the same connection but shied away because it was unsure that its love would be joyfully welcomed and reciprocated? Were both men totally clueless as to each other’s feelings?

A memory suddenly clicked into place.

Still reeling from the flu that had decimated over one-third the precinct’s work force about three weeks ago, a very pale-looking Ray had been booking two suspects with all the speed of a half-dead snail. While Huey was making his usual joking remarks about their sniffling and coughing co-worker, he had been silently observing Fraser, who was standing directly behind Ray, murmuring to him softly and running his hand up and down his back in a comforting manner. At that particular moment, he hadn’t given any thought to the way Fraser was touching Ray or to what he was saying; but now that his eyes had been opened, he understood the emotions behind the whispered words, the caring looks and the gentle caresses the Mountie had been offering to Ray.

Benton Fraser was just as much in love with Ray as Ray was with him.

“Get some clothes on, Kowalski.”

Giving Duncan’s hand a quick squeeze, he jumped up from his chair and swiftly made his way over to the closet, randomly selecting a shirt and pair of jeans and throwing them at a startled Ray. “Close your mouth and get dressed. Time’s a wasting.”

Ray’s answer was to toss the clothes right back at him. “Are you fucking mad? Why the hell do I wanna put clothes on? It’s the middle of the night, you moron.”

He expertly caught the shirt that was aimed at his head and grinned at the cantankerous blond. “I know exactly what time it is. Learned that particular skill and how to tie my shoe laces in detective school.”

Ray snorted and Duncan chuckled.

Realizing neither man understood his strange request, he gathered up the discarded garments and dumped them in Ray’s lap. Going on a search for underwear, he explained, “Duncan and I are taking you to see Fraser, and you’re going to sit down and tell that damn Mountie of yours exactly how you feel about him.”

He started randomly opening dresser drawers, pausing slightly when he was caught off guard by a drawer that contained all the trappings of a Mountie’s uniform, right down to the wide brimmed hat. He couldn’t help but grin. Without a doubt, Ray was undeniably in love with Fraser. Either that  **or** … he had a kinky obsession with men in uniform.

Finally locating a pair of decent briefs, one  **without** holes, he turned back toward the bed and tossed them at Ray. “What are you waiting for? Get the lead out, Bucko. True love doesn’t wait forever.”

Ray stared at him like he had grown a second head.

“Man, you need to find yourself a new lover ‘cause I’m thinking this one’s brain’s been abducted by aliens,” Ray whispered aside to Duncan. Scooting to the far side of the bed, the blond glanced warily in his direction. “Fraser is  **not** into men, you dumbass. Therefore, he could care less about my feelin’s for him.”

Grabbing Ray’s arm, Tom prevented his escape. “How do you know that’s true? Up until this evening, I didn’t know the truth about you, and you sure as hell didn’t know about me. So what makes you think Fraser doesn’t have the same inclinations?”

“`Cause he’s been with women!” Ray shouted.

“And you haven’t, Mr. ‘I married my wife straight out of high school’ Kowalski?” He lowered his voice but didn’t loosen his grip. “Fraser might be just like us. Hiding his desires behind a façade of what passes for normalcy in this homophobic society.”

“Not Fraser.” Jerking his arm free, Ray shook his head vehemently. “He’s the epiphany of honesty.”

“Epitome,” Duncan corrected with a smile.

Ray threw a sharp look at the Scot. “Yeah, whatever.” Slipping on his shirt, he continued defending his friend. “Fraser’s not like us. He wouldn’t live a lie. He values honesty above everything. He…”

“ **He’s** in love with you, Ray Kowalski.”

Stunned beyond words, Ray simply stared open-mouthed at him for a full minute. “You have definitely lost your marbles,” he finally managed to say.

Growing serious, Tom took a seat on the bed and laid a gentle hand on his co-worker’s knee. It was obvious from the confusion etched on Ray’s face that he was going to have to spell everything out word for word, maybe even syllable by syllable. Ray could be so dense, sometimes.

“Here’s the deal,” he said with great patience. “I’ve seen the way Fraser looks at you, touches you, talks to you, and up until now, I never thought twice about it. Well, at least I didn’t. Huey on the other hand…”

“Tom, you’re digressing.” Duncan tugged on his hair. “I doubt Mr. Kowalski is concerned about your partner’s opinion.”

The smile on Duncan’s face was tender and inviting, and for a second he considered kissing him breathless, but a well-placed punch to his arm drove that thought right out of his head.

“You can make goo-goo eyes at your man later,” Ray grumbled. “Get back to what you were saying about Fraser.”

Rubbing his arm, he glared at Ray. There were many aspects of his life that he would tolerate jokes about. His love for Duncan was not one of them; and if Ray made one more derogatory remark, he was going to haul off and punch him.

“No need to be hateful about it,” he groused. “Remember, I’m the one who hauled your sorry ass home from Sal’s. A deed, I might add, that has gone totally unacknowledged.”

“Dewey, if you don’t tell me what you know about Fraser, my fist is gonna do more that tap you on the arm.”

The two of them exchanged surly looks for several seconds; and when it appeared neither would back down, Duncan stepped in and slapped both of them on the back of their heads.

“Quit acting like idiots. This night is not getting any younger; and if you plan on visiting your colleague, you two better kiss and make up.”

A low-pitched mutter of ‘sorry’ and an even softer ‘thanks’ were unwillingly offered to Tom, and he waited a full thirty seconds – waited until Ray fired a threatening glance at him before saying with a victorious grin on his face, “I accept your apology  **and** … you’re welcome.”

“Why you son of a bitch.”

Ray started to rise up off the bed, but promptly rethought his decision when the sheet that was covering him fell and revealed his family jewels to the two men watching him. “I’m gonna kill you, Dewey,” he forced out between clenched teeth.

“Yeah? You and whose army?”

He briefly experienced the need to put up his fists – Ray looked quite prepared to follow through with his threat. “Come on, little man. Let’s see what’cha got. Think you can take me down without your Canadian sidekick to back you up?”

Ray’s anger instantly evaporated at the mention of his partner, and with a dejected groan, he dropped his head into his hands. “My life is gonna be so fucked up without Fraser.”

Keeping his head down, the blond reached out for a hand and caught it in a death grip. “I know you think I’m not worth shit, but if there’s something you know, some way you can keep me and Fraser together then please, Dewey, please help me.”

Tom, once again, felt like a complete jerk; and if Ray hadn’t been crushing the bones in his hand, he would have considered dropping to his knees and asking him for forgiveness. Shit, it was bad enough he acted the prick at work. There was no call for that type of behavior when he was away from the precinct and with friends.

He shook his head at his own idiocy.  _Shit!_ Friends sure as hell didn’t treat friends the way he was treating Ray. And good lord, what Duncan must think of him and the way he was treating someone in need. Definitely time to apologize.

Scooting closer to Ray, he pulled him into his arms and consoled him with a hug. “I’m sorry, Kowalski. What I said, did, was totally uncalled for.”

Ray returned the hug briefly, finally lifting his head and whispering a sincere, heartfelt thanks in his ear. “Thanks, Dewey. Thanks for everything.”

“You’re welcome, Ray. And please quit calling me Dewey. It’s Tom.”

Wishing to make amends, he stroked his hand up and down Ray’s back and offered his support in a way that he never thought he would. “And Bucko? If you ever get that way again, get messed up in the head and,” he laid his hand over Ray’s heart, “in here, don’t go to Sal’s. Call me. I’ve got some pretty broad shoulders, and they can handle just about any problem you can throw at ‘em.”

“I can vouch for that, Detective.”

Duncan rested a hand over his, and the two of them shared a secret smile. “Tom’s shoulders have weathered quite a few storms since we’ve been together.”

Tom flipped his hand over and tangled his fingers with those of his lover’s. He remembered the last emotional storm the two of them had weathered – his accidental discovery of Duncan’s immortality the night an old enemy of his had decided it was payback time. The Highlander had taken a bullet meant for him and had died in his lover’s arms. Before he could get his hands to stop trembling so that he could dial for an ambulance, Duncan had revived and shocked the living daylights out of him.

“I’d go through it all again for you, Duncan,” he whispered as his gaze lovingly traced the handsome features that had greeted him when he had awakened that morning.

Before the Scot could reply, he felt rather than saw Ray try to pull away. He gave Duncan’s hand a reassuring squeeze before returning his attention to the man slipping out of the bed. “Finish getting dressed, Ray, and we’ll take you to Fraser.”

“Tell me why, Tom.” Ray worriedly studied the worn carpet below his feet, glancing up at him through his eyelashes. “Tell me why I should go and humiliate myself before a man who obviously doesn’t care about leaving me behind.”

“Because he loves you.” Chuckling, he tapped Ray on the chin. “Close your mouth before they fine you for air pollution.”

Ray snapped his mouth shut and offered the two of them a grin of embarrassment. “Fraser doesn’t love me,” he insisted, shaking his head in denial. “I mean he loves me as a friend and a partner but not love-love, not like your man here loves you.”

Stabbing his hand through his hair, Ray stood up and wobbled unsteadily on his feet, grabbing for the dresser to hang on to. Once he had regained his balance, he set to the task of pulling on his jeans, ignoring the underwear Tom held out to him.

“I don’t know what makes you think otherwise, but Fraser’s really not into men.”

Tom shoved the unwanted briefs under Ray’s pillow. “I’m not saying Fraser’s into men. I’m not even saying Fraser’s gay. But Ray, I’ve seen how that man looks at you,  **really** looks at you. Not to mention how he touches you, the way he talks to you. If that’s not the kind of love that puts you in his bed and in his heart forever, then I’ll...” He retrieved the briefs he had just stuffed under the pillow. “I’ll eat your underwear, if I’m wrong.”

A genuine chuckle escaped Ray’s lips as he reached out and fingered the underwear he was holding. “Eat my drawers, huh? Damn, I almost hope Fraser doesn’t love me. I sure as hell would like to see you eat my BVDs.”

“Ha, ha, Ray.”

He threw the underwear in question at Ray and laughed when they smacked him square in the face. “Seriously, he loves you, Ray. I’m telling you Fraser loves you.” He turned to Duncan and instructed, “Why don’t you go get the car? We’ll be down as soon as Ray combs his hair and brushes his teeth.”

Ray looked like shit, and if they had had time for a real shower, he would have gladly thrown his friend in the tub; but time was a luxury they didn’t have a lot of, and they needed to get to Fraser’s before Ray had a chance to change his mind.

“What’s wrong with my hair?” Ray checked his appearance in the mirror that hung above the oak dresser opposite the bed. “This is how my hair looks all the time.”

“Exactly my point. You look like you have a finger permanently stuck in an electrical socket.” He couldn’t count the number of times he and Huey had made fun of the detective’s unorthodox hairstyle.

Instead of combing his hair as suggested, Ray simply ran his fingers through his short spikes, the maneuver doing absolutely nothing to diminish his wild look. “I’ll have you know both men  **and** women think this hairstyle is incredibly sexy.”

“So, are you now telling me that all your dates are blind?”

Laughing, he lunged to the side and caught Ray when it appeared he was about to fall on his face. “Maybe I should call Fraser and have him come here. You don’t seem too steady on your feet, and I’d hate for you to keel over the moment he’s declaring his love for you.”

Ray waved off his suggestion. “Just let me splash some cold water on my face, and I’ll be good to go.” With help, Ray forced his tired legs toward the door but stumbled suddenly when Duncan re-appeared in the doorway and caught both of them by surprise.

“You didn’t have to come back up, babe.” He took a closer look at his lover’s face and noticed the way Duncan kept glancing to the side. “What’s wrong?”

Ray also caught onto the fact that something wasn’t kosher and asked, “Everything okay? You look kinda funny.”

Duncan slid closer and whispered in his ear. “You know that sleeping bag we saw in the hallway earlier? The one we thought possibly belonged to a homeless person?” Duncan shot a look over his shoulder in the direction of the living room. “Well, its owner just made my acquaintance.”

Tom hooked an arm around Ray’s waist and stopped his slow descent to the floor. “You aren’t making any sense, Duncan. What’s going on?”

“The owner of that sleeping bag is sitting in the living room and Tom… he’s got a wolf with him. A damn big wolf with lots of teeth. And if you want my opinion, I don’t think he takes too kindly to strangers.”

“Who doesn’t? The man or the wolf?” He immediately knew who Duncan was talking about; but, before he could clarify his lover’s confusion, Ray snapped to attention and twisted free of his hold.

“Wolf? Did you say something about a man with a wolf? Where? Where is he? Where’s Fraser?”

Ray took off toward the living room. Unfortunately his legs lagged behind, and he quickly lost his balance and pitched forward the second he cleared the hallway. Before anyone could reach him, Fraser appeared and hauled Ray into a rib-crushing hug.

“Falling at my feet, Ray?”

Tom noticed that Ray didn’t even look up at the man holding him. Instead, he just instinctively snuggled closer and asked softly, “Would it help if I did, Frase? Fall at your feet, I mean?”

“Are you trying to tell me something, Ray?” Fraser asked.

Following the two men into the living room, he watched as Fraser assisted Ray to the couch and eased him down on it before kneeling in front of him and tenderly cupping the side of his face.

“Talk to me, Ray. Tell me what’s on your mind,” Fraser instructed.

Tom nearly chuckled at the sight of Ray nuzzling Fraser’s hand, for it reminded him of Jonesy, his mother’s very affectionate house cat. Sliding into Duncan’s open arms, he silently encouraged Ray to come clean with his partner. Fate was offering him a second chance and if he blew it, he, himself, would happily volunteer to kick Ray’s ass into the next century.

_‘Do it, Ray. Tell Fraser you love him.’_

Relief surged through him when he saw Ray visibly swallow his fear and begin to speak softly to the man who was watching him worriedly.

“ **You’re** what’s on my mind, Frase. On my mind and in my heart. Don’t leave me here all by myself. Take me with you. Please. I promise I’ll behave, won’t cause any trouble. I’ll be the…” Ray aimed a look over Fraser’s shoulder at Duncan. “I’ll be the  **epitome** of goodness. I promise, Fraser. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“In your heart, Ray?”

Tom nervously reached for Duncan’s hands and gripped them where they lay over his heart. Ray had done his part and now it was up to Fraser. Had he guessed correctly about the Mountie’s feelings for his partner? Would Fraser recognize Ray’s plea for what it truly was – a declaration of love?

Fraser moved closer to Ray and touched their foreheads together. The two men were soon joined by Dief, the wolf taking his place beside them and resting his head on Ray’s thigh. “Does that mean you  **do** care for me, Ray?” Fraser asked, halting Ray’s answer unexpectedly by pressing his index finger to Ray’s lips. “Wait. That’s not the question I wanted to ask.”

Tom frowned when the joyful light in Ray’s eyes faded immediately, and he was about to answer for him when Fraser rushed forth with his clarification.

“Please excuse me, Ray, for I believe I have misspoken.” Fraser traded fingers and boldly brushed his thumb back and forth over Ray’s bottom lip. “I know you care for me, Ray. You proved that fact the day we were held at gunpoint by Miss Garbo and you prevented her from killing me. You’ve proved it time and time again, and that’s why I want you to come home with me. But….”

Fraser pushed Ray’s legs apart and moved closer. “But what I want to know. I’m sorry… what I  **need** to know is this...”

Tom saw Ray lift his hands from where they were gripping Fraser’s broad shoulders and tangle them in his hair. ‘ _That’s it, Bucko. Grab hold of your man.’_

“What is it, Fraser? What do you need to know?” Ray asked cautiously.

A blush quickly stole across Fraser’s cheeks, and he tried to hide his face but was prevented when Ray tightened his hold. “I hope I’m not being presumptuous in asking you this question, Ray, but I…”

“Just ask the fucking question, Frase, will ya?” Ray’s harsh words were contradicted by the way he pressed his lips to Fraser’s cheek and kissed him softly. “Just ask me, okay?”

A dazed look came over Fraser’s features when Ray’s lips made contact with his skin. “You claim I’m in your heart, Ray. Does that mean,” Fraser swallowed hard, “does that mean you love me?”

“Sure took you long enough to ask, Benton buddy.”

Ray pulled Fraser as close as possible and groaned when Fraser’s body brushed against his groin. “You have no idea, Frase. No idea at all how long I’ve been waiting for you to ask me that question. It’s been like forever, and when you told me you were leaving and didn’t ask me to go with you, I thought, well maybe I was wrong about you and me being a duet in every way possible, and that kind of thinking got me so damn depressed and made me give up hope of us ever getting’ together and well… umph!”

Tom felt Duncan’s grin against the side of his neck when the two of them caught sight of the merriment in Fraser’s eyes as he lifted his hand away from Ray’s open mouth.

“You haven’t answered my question, Ray,” Fraser noted.

With a sheepish grin on his face and his cheeks glowing bright red, Ray lowered his head. “Sorry. Kinda got carried away there.”

“Yes, you did. Quite carried away, I might add,” Fraser said with a chuckle.

Obviously not caring that he and Duncan were watching, Tom saw Fraser shift slightly to the left and then to the right, rubbing suggestively against Ray’s crotch, a victorious smile appearing when Ray groaned and jerked forward.

“One last time, Ray. Do you love me?” Fraser asked.

“Hell, yeah, Frase. Like a house on fire, burning out of control.” Ray removed one hand from Fraser’s hair and gave him and Duncan the thumb’s up sign. “What about you? Do you… ya know… love me?”

“I’ve been sleeping outside your door for the past two nights, Ray, waiting for you to come home. Does that not answer your question?”

Fraser turned and Tom saw that his gaze was focused on the longhaired man nipping the side of his neck.

“This gentleman,” Fraser indicated with a nod of his head. “…was kind enough to allow me inside your apartment so that I could present my case to you.”

“He had a wolf, Tom. Of course, I let him in,” Duncan whispered in his ear, his voice loud enough to be heard by both Ray and Fraser, causing every one present to chuckle.

As soon as the laughter died down, Ray asked Fraser, “You’ve been waiting for me? All weekend? Why?”

“Ray, I am absolutely bewildered.” Fraser stroked a thumb across his left eyebrow. “Did you truly believe I would return home without you at my side? We’re partners, Ray. A duet for all time. Have you forgotten the great adventure we just went on together? Together, Ray. Do we not do everything together?”

Ray suddenly found the trim on the couch cushions extremely interesting and played with the edging before answering softly, “I know that, Fraser. But damn it, man, you laid that news on me and then just took off, and even though we’ve done all that shit together, I sure as hell wasn’t gonna take it for granted that you wanted me along for this particular ride.”

Fraser gripped Ray’s chin and lifted his head until Ray was looking him straight in the eye. “I want you, Ray. At my side, along for a ride that I sincerely hope will continue until the day I depart this earth.”

Ray couldn’t hold back his laughter. “Fraser, that’s the corniest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“I meant every word,” Fraser insisted. “Corny or not.”

Certain his two colleagues were on the right road – a road that would lead them hopefully to the bed down the hall, Tom finally gave into the sexual frustration that had been simmering on the back burner of his mind from the moment Sal had interrupted his supper. “Would you two just kiss and get it over with already,” he demanded.

He slipped free of Duncan’s embrace. Pulling him to his side, he kissed the Scot hard before turning and waggling his eyebrows at the two men watching. “It’s three in the morning, fellas, and at the rate you two are going, I’m never gonna get to enjoy the ride  **my** lover has promised to treat me to.”

He knew he was about to say something crude but he didn’t care. His body was more than ready to do the horizontal mambo with Duncan, and if something wasn’t done to speed up this tender moment between Ray and Fraser, certain body parts of his were definitely going to go on strike. “My ass has reached its limit of patience,” he boldly told the two men staring at him.

Twin blushes of embarrassment greeted his announcement, along with an appreciative hand that groped his behind. “Okay, then. It’s settled.” He pointed at Ray and then at Fraser. “He loves you. You love him, and  **I** am completely in lust with this horny specimen of manhood standing before you. End of story.”

He grabbed Duncan’s hand and dragged him toward the door, a bemused smile breaking out at the sight of his brave Highlander going out of his way to avoid the wolf that suddenly seemed incredibly intrigued by the sword hidden in his long leather coat.

“All’s well that ends well. Right, guys?” He was barely able to catch a last look at Ray before a growling Duncan jerked him out the door. What he did manage to see put his mind to rest immediately.

Ray stripping off Fraser’s shirt and tackling him to the floor.

_Oh yeah_. He fisted the back of Duncan’s leather coat. _Definitely time to do some stripping_.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Duncan!”

“No.”

“Please, damn it!”

“No.”

Tom glared at his stubborn lover as he fought against the hands holding him arms immobile above his head. “You bastard. Are you trying to kill me?”

“That  **could** be arranged.”

Duncan offered him a familiar smile – a smile that declared ‘I’ve got a secret and wouldn’t you just love to know what it is’ – a smile that most definitely aggravated the hell out of him, to the point where some days he had to physically restrain himself from wiping it off Duncan’s face with a loving punch to the kisser. “If you don’t move soon, I’m gonna haul your ass back over to Ray’s and feed it to that damn wolf.”

“You’re in no position to haul ass anywhere.”

Duncan leaned every bit of his weight on his bent legs and Tom grunted when sharp Scottish teeth nipped his chin. “You need to... ugh… you need to lay off the pastries, Doughboy,” he joked at his lover. “You’re putting on weight.”

“I’m not the one who ate not one but three cream cheese bagels for breakfast. Not to mention the super-size mug of hot chocolate to wash it all down with.” Duncan licked the flesh he had abused before smiling. “Still want me to move?”

He would have throttled Duncan if his hands had been free, but then again, if his hands had been free, Duncan would have been the one being tortured to the brink of insanity instead of him.

“Would you  **please** commence with the fucking? My legs are starting to go numb.”

“I do so love it when you talk dirty, Detective Dewey.”

His groan of exquisite pleasure greeted the immortal’s first thrust, the sound repeating itself as Duncan fulfilled his request and began hammering his ass in earnest. “I take it you like that?”

“Asshole.”

Suddenly finding his hands free, Tom tangled his fingers in Duncan’s wild mane and tugged hard, forcing the immortal’s head low enough for him to claim the lips that moments ago had been tightly wrapped around his erection in an all-out attempt at sucking him dry.

God, he loved it when Duncan teased the hell out of him, balancing him on the very edge of release and bringing him to the brink again and again, only to snatch him back at the very last second. Being immortal obviously had its share of distinct physical attributes, and Duncan unabashedly took full advantage of his amazing stamina, pushing him to test the very limits of his own.

Teeth raked his bottom lip and Tom shuddered. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Duncan repeated the rough caress. “You mean this or…” The Scot snapped his hips forward. “…this?”

He dug his nails into the darkly tanned skin that stretched tight across Duncan’s shoulders. “Yeah, that.”

His lover’s chuckle halted abruptly, and Tom couldn’t contain the knowing smile spreading across his face. Since he had taken up with his sexy Scot, he had perfected the art of muscle control, and from the way Duncan was beginning to thrust erratically, his hours of practice had paid off.

_‘Who said Kegel exercises were only for women?’_

“Shit! You’re… Christ Almighty!” Duncan reared back his head and howled.

Tom soon added his own roar of completion to the mix because even though his lover was crashing through a riotous climax, he somehow maintained enough control to expertly coax him toward his own violent release.

Seconds before the turbulence of his orgasm tumbled him into unconsciousness, he felt the gentlest of kisses settle upon his lips, and he gladly welcomed it and his lover’s weight as it collapsed down upon him.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Tom?”

“Hmmm?”

“I was wondering.”

“Yes?”

He brushed back the curtain of silken strands that covered his face before capturing the restless finger playing in the thick mat of hair that covered his chest. He recognized the tone of Duncan’s words and knew his Scottish lover had been brooding on whatever was about to be discussed. He also knew that the expectation of surrendering to the mindless lassitude that had descended upon him since their last session of lovemaking was about go unfulfilled.

Pushing Duncan over on his side and then turning so that he faced him, he lifted his hand and tenderly traced the older man’s features. “And just what were you wondering about,” he asked as he lightly brushed his thumb over Duncan’s kiss-swollen lips

“You said something at your friend’s apartment earlier, and I’ve been unable to get it out of my mind.”

Loving the way Duncan nipped at his thumb, but realizing how distracting such a simple action could be for his libido, he reluctantly pulled his hand away and settled for caressing his lover’s muscular arm. “We just finished fucking our brains out. Are you telling me you were actually thinking  **and** fucking at the same time?”

He felt his grin melt right off his face when Duncan’s somber brown eyes pinned him with their gaze. “What’s wrong? What did I say that’s got you looking so sad and so serious?”

Not waiting for Duncan to answer, he slid closer to his reticent lover and pulled him into his arms, turning on his back and cradling Duncan’s head on his chest. “Whatever it was, if it hurt you, I’m sorry.”

He racked his brain for a clue to the problem. So much had been said in the past few hours – to Ray, to Duncan, to Fraser. Had his mouth taken off without his brain following along? Was it something he had said to Ray about his lover that Duncan had found disturbing or even offensive? Whatever it was, he was more than willing to make amends for it, even if that meant getting down on his knees and pleading for forgiveness. Duncan was the best thing to come into his life and unquestionably worth groveling for.

Ready to commence begging, he was surprised when Duncan lifted his head and aimed a confused look at him. “How long have we been seeing each other?” the Highlander softly asked him.

“Nearly a year now.”

“And how many times have I asked you to come live with me?”

“Duncan.”

Not that again. How many times would he have to defend his reasons for staying in Chicago? Did Duncan actually think he could just pack up and…

Lips settled over his, and with a tender kiss, pulled him away from his fretful thoughts.

“That’s not what I want to talk about, Tom,” Duncan calmly corrected. “I understand why you can’t leave, and I have no problem with it.”

A feeling of utter hopelessness momentarily swamped his heart. The angels had stolen his mother on the eve his father was diagnosed with lung cancer, and Duncan had been the only light during a very dark and difficult year. The Highlander had been with him on those nights when the truth had been too heavy to endure, and his support and love had sheltered him from the stark reality of his life.

He curved his hand over Duncan’s shoulder and allowed it to slowly trail down his back until it came to rest on the curve of his backside. “I can’t abandon my Dad, Duncan. The doc says… God, this is so hard. He says it won’t be long now, and as soon as I settle his affairs, I’ll...”

Another kiss laden with understanding and tenderness halted his stumble of words and lasted until both men were gasping for air.

“Your dedication to your father is one of the qualities I admire about you, Tom.” Duncan rose to his knees and straddled his hips, spreading his hands and sinking fingers into his chest hair. “The reason I asked that particular question was to make a point.”

Tom searched Duncan’s face. He was still confused, and literally had no idea how the topic of moving in with his lover had anything to do with the events of last night. “And that point would be?”

“How serious I am about us, about our relationship. It’s not every day that I ask someone to live with me.”

He gazed up at the Scot towering over him and desperately tried to discern what was going on behind the solemn pair of eyes staring back at him. “Duncan, I’m totally in the dark here. What has this got to do with whatever it is I said earlier this evening?” He caught the hand resting over his heart and lifted it to his mouth so that he could press a kiss to its palm. “Quit being so… just tell me what’s wrong. Please.”

Silence reigned for a good sixty seconds, just enough time for a tendril of fear to wrap its way around his heart. ‘ _Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong so that I can fix it.’_

He squeezed his lover’s hand, not caring that his grip was tight enough to bruise flesh and bone. Maybe Duncan wasn’t truly okay with his refusal to move to Seacouver. Maybe after seeing Ray and Fraser’s reconciliation and watching the two of them kiss and hug each other, maybe Duncan had decided he was tired of being alone, tired of taking those red-eye flights just so that they could be together for a few measly hours.

“Duncan, I…”

“Why did you tell Ray and Fraser that you were in  **lust** with me?”

His mouth hanging open in disbelief, Tom watched the dark-haired immortal slide from the bed and pad barefoot to the doors that opened onto the suite’s balcony. Duncan stood silently for several seconds studying the changing colors of the skyline before looking over his shoulder at him. “Was what you said true? Is it just… lust?” he asked, his husky voice breaking on the last word.

_‘Damn Adam Pierson and his fucking advice!’_

Tom pushed up and took a sitting position on the bed, resting his arms on his bent knees and cradling his head in his hands. Adam had cautioned him about the folly of love between an immortal and mortal. In fact, one blustery fall afternoon at Joe’s tavern, after quite a few rounds of beer that had been paid for by him and consumed by Adam, the young college professor had gone to great lengths to explain how tragic such a relationship could be, especially for the immortal. No detail was spared as he described every episode of heartbreak Duncan had suffered through during his short life of four hundred and fifty years.

Adam had bluntly told him to check his heart at the door while he and Duncan were dating and to concentrate on the sex and nothing but the sex. And when the party was over – and there was no doubt that the party would end sooner and not later, Adam asserted – both would be able to leave with their hearts intact.

He angrily combed his fingers through his hair. That was the last time he took advice from a beer-guzzling immortal, no matter how dear a friend he was to Duncan. Shit, it only took one glance at Duncan’s face to realize how deeply hurt his ill-chosen words had wounded the man he loved.

“Your friend Pierson said…”

“What the  **hell** has Adam got to do with this?”

Duncan strode back inside, and Tom had to force back the gasp that rose to his lips. The Highlander looked absolutely magnificent standing there with his hands on his hips, his naked body framed by the first rays of sunlight spilling through the open balcony doors. It was all he could do to keep from bolting from the bed and tackling his irate lover to the floor so that he could demonstrate just how much he loved him.

“Tom, I asked you a question. What’s Adam got to do with this?”

He tore his gaze away from the unruly tresses that were wrestling with the breeze blowing off the lake below. “Umm… Adam basically said you didn’t need to complicate your life with another lovesick mortal.”

“And you  **listened** to him?”

Duncan moved closer to the bed, and Tom rose up on his knees to meet him, asking, “Why shouldn’t I have listened to him? He’s one of your best friends.”

“The damn fool wants me for himself, and he’ll go to any lengths to eliminate any and all competition.”

“He can’t have you.”

He grasped Duncan by the shoulders and yanked him into a fierce embrace, his groan echoed by one tinged with the hint of a Scottish brogue when their groins collided with each other. Adam could go to hell for all he cared. Duncan was not on the market, and if he had his way, would never be so, at least not until the day he took his last breath.

Determined to mark his man even if it was only temporary, he growled and latched onto to the side of the Highlander’s neck, sucking hard on the skin, bruising it with his teeth and then soothing it with the moist heat of his tongue. Continuing with the same train of thought, he slid his hands down and clutched at the granite hard mounds of Duncan’s ass, wishing for the millionth time that once, just once, his lover’s body wouldn’t heal so damn quickly. He wanted to brand the Highlander, leave a mark of ownership that could plainly be seen by all or at least by one certain sneaky immortal bastard.

“He  **CANNOT** have you. No way. No how. Not ever. Do you hear me, Duncan?”

Duncan responded by taking hold of his waist and tipping him backwards, using the strength of his upper arms to cushion his fall. “And this from a man who’s only in  **lust** with me?”

Once again he was straddled by his lover, and he took a moment to revel in the feel of the powerfully built body settling over him and pushing him further into the mattress.

“Tell me it’s more than lust, Tom,” Duncan demanded. “Tell me I mean more to you than just a hot meal and a great fuck.”

He let his kisses do the talking; and once he had wrapped his arms around Duncan’s broad shoulders and was securely anchored to the immortal, he relentlessly explored every inch of the Scot’s lips, savoring the love that was offered freely to him. Groaning, he thrust his tongue into the mouth opening eagerly to him and shuddered when Duncan melted against him and returned the kiss with equal enthusiasm.

His lungs straining for air, he slowly pulled away, his gaze never wavering from Duncan’s face. This was the man he loved, the man he prayed he would have the privilege of spending the rest of his life with. And he’d be damned if was he going to allow that ferret-face Adam Pierson prevent him from obtaining his dream. Hell, he’d sign up for sword lessons and defend his claim to Duncan if need be.

“Tom?”

Deaf to his lover’s inquiry, he clenched his fists shut and pounded the mattress. Adam would rue the day he crossed blades with Thomas Elliot Dewey. Wasn’t he one of Chicago’s finest? That wimp-ass school teacher would be no match for his cunning and skill.

“Tom?”

His chin was gripped, and he blinked his eyes in confusion. “Huh?”

“You’ve got that look on your face again. The one you wear when you’re about to take down a bad guy.”

Without warning, he surged off the bed and expertly flipped Duncan over on his back, usurping his normally dominant lover. “It’s a hell of a lot more than lust, Duncan MacLeod.”

He slapped his hands down on either side of the Highlander’s head, making sure he had his full attention. “I love you, and if you’re willing to take on a lovesick mortal, I’d be more than happy to dedicate the rest of my years to making sure you’re well fucked and…”

He straightened up and hoisted Duncan’s legs over his shoulders, leaning forward a second later and bending the pliable immortal nearly in half so that he could collect the moisture collecting in the hollow at the base of his throat. “… well fucked and  **exceedingly** loved. The latter more so than the former, if you don’t mind.”

Turning his gaze away from the naked pecs that pleaded to be nibbled and licked, he groaned when he lifted his eyes and caught sight of Duncan’s features. The tender look of love combined with one of sensual abandonment nearly stole his breath away, and it wasn’t until his own nipples were pinched and twisted that he remembered to breathe again.

“Are you willing?” he asked as he began to prepare his lover’s ass for the wild ride he was about to take him on. “Can I tell Pierson he’s shit out of luck, and that he needs to renew his membership in the Lonely Hearts Club?”

He didn’t need to hear Duncan verbalize his answer. He could see it in his eyes; and the second his lover opened his smiling mouth to say ‘yes’ he slammed his cock deep inside, claiming for the very first time in their relationship the ass that had caught his attention on the night he had sought shelter from the rain by ducking inside a club filled with the sweet sound of the blues.

Whimpers of intense need slipped unbidden from Duncan’s lips, and Tom felt compelled to catch them with his fingers. “You’re mine, Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod.”

Unsteady hands rose up and fastened themselves to his shoulders, using them as leverage and allowing his immortal lover to pull his upper torso off the bed. “Am I right? Are you mine? And will you wait for me?” he asked before crushing his mouth to Duncan’s.

“Yes! As God is my witness, yes!”

He gasped when Duncan suddenly released his hold and fell backwards. The weight of the Scot’s upper torso hitting the bed drove his hips upwards and forced him to sink even deeper inside the scorching heat that was gripping his erection. The sensation of rippling muscle caressing his organ sent his brain into orbit, and he struggled to remain coherent, to give as much pleasure as he was receiving.

“Fuck me, Tom. Show me what love feels like.”

Tom was more than willing to fulfill the hoarsely whispered request, and with a bite to each of Duncan’s corded thighs, he rode his lover’s ass, calling out the Highlander’s name each time he thrust forward. When his control finally unraveled and his movements took on a frantic cadence, he reached down, wrapped a hand around Duncan’s shaft and hurled them both over the edge into oblivion.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Waking to find a familiar warm body spooned in behind him, Tom yawned and squinted against the sunlight spilling across the bed. “Man, I gotta pee.”

He offered a kiss to the pair of brawny arms holding him hostage and grunted in protest when they refused to let him escape to the bathroom. Cautiously, he glanced over his shoulder and momentarily forgot his need to urinate when he discovered he was the sole focus of the Highlander’s adoring gaze.

“Duncan?”

“Remind me to take back the spare house key I gave to Adam.”

He twisted onto his back and lifted his hands to the raven strands curtaining his lover’s face, making a mental reminder to check the yellow pages for a trainer whose expertise included swords. Adam was going to go ballistic the moment Duncan locked him out of the dojo, and he better be damn prepared to defend himself. “Why do you want to do that? He is your friend, Duncan.”

“Yes, he is, but right now there’s only one person I trust with the key to my home **and** my heart, and that person is **not** Adam Pierson.”

“It’s not?” He reached up and cupped the side of Duncan’s face with his hand, brushing his thumb over the Scot’s stubble-covered cheek and down along his jaw. “And do I know this person who has earned your love and trust?”

“I’m looking at him right now.”

Staring into Duncan’s eyes, he suddenly felt as if he could see eternity stretching out before him – and when that eternity transformed into a pair of tempting lips that lowered to his and claimed him with a kiss that was so filled with tenderness and love that he nearly died from the wonder of it – all he could do was sigh and wrap his arms around Duncan and pray his heart was strong enough to deal with the feeling of joy swamping it.

“I’ll remind you if you’ll remind me,” he whispered a moment later in the Highlander’s ear as he turned the two of them on their sides.

Work-callused fingers danced lightly down his spine, lingering briefly at its base before sliding lower and teasing the damp cleft of his ass. “And just what do you need to be reminded of, Detective Dewey?” questioned his lover.

The tickle of Duncan’s breath on his ear stirred his desire to life once more, and deciding he would enjoy topping Duncan again, he rolled him onto his back. A wicked smile appeared on his face as he began nipping at the immortal’s bare chest and abdomen, leaving a trail of fading bite marks that led to a hard column of flesh so ripe for sucking and would, with luck, serve as the perfect tool of distraction for a certain act he wished to try.

“Tom? Oh shit! Wait! Your fingers… your hand… my ass can’t… oh fuck, it can.”

Grinning at his babbling lover, he leaned forward and bit sharply down on Duncan’s left nipple while at the same time taking hold of his cock with his free hand. “Remind me to kick Adam’s butt the next time I see him.”

Duncan writhed on the bed, his chest heaving for air, his body flushed and dripping with sweat as it desperately tried to accommodate the twin assault being inflicted upon it. “Kick Adam. Got it. Tom! Oh God, oh God!”

Drawing his legs up and giving his lover more access to his body, Duncan clawed at the sheets and ripped them free from the mattress. “Kick… kick Adam. Yeah, no problem. We’ll do it together. Holy Mother of God!  **TOM!** ”

Thoroughly enjoying the glass-shattering roar serenading his eardrums, he lowered his head and feasted on the gift of Duncan’s explosive release, savoring the hot spray of semen filling his mouth and scalding the back of his throat. Minutes later, trembling arms lifted and cradled him close to a body that was still shuddering with tiny aftershocks of pleasure, and he did his best to calm his overwrought lover, nuzzling the taut muscles of Duncan’s abdomen before softly kissing his navel.

“Together. Yeah, I think I like the sound of that.”

  

End of ... To the Rescue

 

**Author's Note:**

> [You can find me on Tumblr!](http://angelise7.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thanks for reading!!


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